


Papercut

by nervouswriting



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anxiety, Broken Bones, Crying, Fever, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecurity, M/M, Past Character Death, Puberty, Slow Build, Support, Teen Romance, Vomiting, really soft love, these tags are really messed up i just keep coming up w stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-29 02:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10844784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouswriting/pseuds/nervouswriting
Summary: Max manages to keep himself far from broken bones, injuries or illness during his childhood and teen years. But a couple times, he doesn't.Isaac manages to be there every time, much to his (partial) dismay.





	Papercut

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a simple fic where Max get's sick and Isaac comes to the rescue, but I got too deep into it. Apologizes beforehand if there's a lot of mistakes here, these were the longest single chapters I've written and I simply couldn't bare going through them that many times. Hope you enjoy!

Mayview Middle School had somehow mustered up enough money for a school trip. No one thought it could happen, especially Max, but it did and now all classes were traveling to a big camp site. It was impressive, albeit they only had enough money to stay there a week, but it was something. And to Max’s utter luck, his dad thought him leaving for camp for a week was like him leaving for college. In his blinding grief, he set up a farewell party to Max. They had all kinds of junk: pizza, hamburgers, candy, soda, the list goes on. Though he tried, Max couldn’t stop his dad from emptying his wallet on the food, and in the end decided to just enjoy the unnecessary party and its treats. Since there was still so much left, his dad even gave the leftovers as Max’s food, which he couldn’t really complain about. The walk (scoot?) to school was harder than usual, but once there they all simply ate before getting on the bus.

Max was usually the type to do something stupid and wake up the next day with probably a couple broken bones, and still say it was worth it, but now he regretted to say he wasn’t feeling it. Isabel and Ed were chatting off in front of him and Isaac, and though they were turned towards the two, they were more just talking to each other. Isaac must’ve been used to it, because he simply watched calmly, laughing at jokes and rolling his eyes but not contributing to the subject or conversation one bit. Max felt like he was the string that kept the team together sometimes, as Isaac would no doubt be talking in all his nerdy glory if Max was too. Sadly, Max couldn’t help the other in this situation though, as he was trying to keep it together with junk at the bottom of his stomach. The weather was hot as heck with a chance of sunburn, and he happened to be seated right next to a window with all black clothes. This was a time of regret, regret for his food and clothing choices alike.

The bus drove over a bump, and the motion caused Max to groan out at the disgusting feeling in his stomach. Isaac turned over to him in obvious concern.

“Are you doing ok? You’ve been really quiet.”

Max considered telling his friend he wasn’t feeling good, but rejected the idea after realizing how weak he’d look. Getting sick from a little eating- the farewell he got for a school trip would be any kids dream. Still, the more the bus moved, the worse he felt. He decided a meaner approach would surely keep Isaac off his back.

“What, you suddenly care? I didn’t think our friendship was that tight yet.”

He looked dumbfounded for a moment, then offended, and Max would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel so awful. The tactic worked though, as Isaac left the tense conversation with an annoyed huff before it even started. Max was internally thankful their friendship happened to actually be tight enough to make it through his constant teasing of Isaac and borderline bullying sometimes. He didn’t mean anything bad by it; it was just his thing, his quirk, a big part of his personality-

Max immediately dragged his mind elsewhere, before some dumb self-deprecating thoughts made him even sicker.

 

And the ride just got worse.

Max wasn’t sure if he was on the verge of throwing up, crying or fainting, or all of them in that order. Isabel and Ed had finally quieted down enough for him to find some serenity, but he quickly found that without the comforting background noise he found it harder to ground himself. Against all odds, he was seriously considering telling the teacher now. But the thought of having to stand up and walk all the way over to the front of the bus itself made him gag low in his throat. The sun was getting brighter as the day went on and for some cruel reason just had to shine down on Max the brightest. Dark clothes stuck to his skin from sweat but so uncomfortably dry against it. He was breathing hard to ease himself, hands quivering just a bit as he hugged himself, as if trying to squeeze all the awful out. Ugh, that phrasing made it even worse.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised if someone noticed by now, especially if that someone happened to be his nerdy friend sitting right beside him who could suddenly read him like a god dang book. Still, he couldn’t help internally jumping out of his skin when Isaac raised his voice without even looking at him.

“I don’t think we need to be tight for me to be able to notice you’re not ok.”

The sentence sounded sentimental as heck, and was this any other situation Max would’ve barked out a nervous laugh at the sheer emotionality of it. But instead all he could was breathe out slow and press his face against the back of Isabel’s chair. Bitter tasting saliva formed in his mouth and he let out a defeated whine, he was actually going to throw up.

Isaac was calling to the teacher before he could protest for the sake of his ego, Ed and Isabel turning around in immediate concern.

“Is he ok? Oh jeez he’s really pale, paler than usual, that is.”

“Max?”

The bus pulled to a stop, Max’s stomach did at least 3 flips before he had to press his hand against his mouth. Isaac grabbed him in seconds, dragging him out the giant baking oven of a bus. His vision swirled, the grossest of thoughts and foods filling the back of his mind. He fell to the ground halfway out, the bus tall behind him with dirty windows that you can still see so clearly through- Isaac pulling him up the tinniest bit before his resistance finally broke.

Make a reminder to add this to the growing list of Maxwell Puckett’s worst moments.

Throwing up is truly never like you remember it being. The burning heat at the bottom of Max’s stomach, and all the junk he had munched on before spilling out of it. He could just this once break the rules and say it was _hellishly_ uncomfortable, sweat and tears that were forming and embarrassment- Heaving breaths that only lasted for 5 seconds before he was back to vomiting. He groaned and whined and felt so freakishly ashamed- The closer it was nearing to the end the more he could feel the frustration of emotions seeping through the cracks. He wanted to die, he wanted it to be over, and he wanted to go back, to erase it. He really wanted his mom to be here.

Even as it was over, it really didn’t feel like it. There was cold relief but also a repulsive feeling and a disgusting taste. He felt lightheaded and warm, could feel the god-awful sunburn he was already getting. It was like a heat-stroke, his brain turning to mush, he was so exhausted and sick and embarrassed. Max threw up at the side of the bus, where all the windows were and where all the kids could see. He resisted the urge to bawl his eyes out and focused on breathing, spitting out the leftover liquids in his mouth. Through it all, he definitely did not expect to feel Isaac’s presence grow closer now, carefully bending down next to him, avoiding the awful display below. He pressed a surprisingly cool hand against the back of his neck, and an even colder bottle against his face. Max let out the highest pitched pant he’d heard and leaned against the bottle, the cold contact like heaven on his skin.

Isaac oh-so-slowly pressed Max’s trembling, sweaty body against his side, keeping the bottle and his hand in place, which Max was so, so thankful for. He closed his eyes, and felt Isaac slowly dragging him under the shadow of the bus. If he had any brain cells left he’d be surprised at the boy’s strength. Closer to the bus now, he could distantly hear the teacher shushing kids and Isabel’s voice raising above all others, using an unmistakably serious tone. Max wondered what was going on, but couldn’t muster any logical thoughts, _cold_ and _water_ the only words dancing in his head. Suddenly Isaac was truly like a mind-reader, slowly moving the bottle from his head and opening it. It must’ve been the most ridiculous scene, Max with his eyes closed and body partially limp as Isaac had to manually tilt his head back and pour the freaking water in his mouth. Some of it dripped down, and he almost choked, but it felt so, so good. His body decided it had done its battle by this point, and he was quickly seeping down to unconsciousness. Normally he’d be freaked out, but right now, beside Isaac, under the shade of a yellow child-carrier, he felt he didn’t have to be.

* * *

 

Finding consciousness again was certainly a different matter. Max awoke on a creaky, uncomfortable bed inside a house. His vision had him considering if he needed glasses, but looking around gave him a headache anyway so he just kept them shut. From what he could tell, the place was big enough for a small classroom. Everything was made of wood and smelled older than the elders of Mayview, and Max was sure all of them had set some kind of record for their age. But one thing that really struck him was how cold it was. Sure, outside it was hot enough to set fire to the wooden house, but somehow the lack of lights and all the dark shadows just formed a cool atmosphere, which he was so thankful for. The bed sheets were just bearably warm, his skin was on fire, but he felt a lot better than before.

He would’ve barely noticed the door open if it wasn’t for the hot air that quickly filled the room, and his peace was all gone. Remembering the sickness from before all-too well now, he groaned and turned to his side, hoping the warmth would at least leave his already burning face alone. He heard careful but clear steps approaching him; stop at the side of his bed, and breathing. Max could recognize the breath anywhere, the one that sounds like soft wind and rain. He kicked Isaac’s leg to confirm and heard the dork’s surprised squeal.

“Good day to you too, Mr. rainbreath creep.”

A smirk spread across Max’s face when he heard the other fumble in annoyance before huffing, dramatic child.

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

The bed dipped beside Max’s legs, so he figured Isaac sat down. A calm silence settled between the two, something Max often avoided, but searching into his endless thought inventory of jokes or subjects, he came up empty. It made him nervous, yet calm. He didn’t like silence around friends, there was something about it he couldn’t put his trust to. He was nearing desperate for some subject to bring up, when Isaac spoke up.

“Are you feeling better?”

Max huffed a laugh, now he asks. He was about to comeback with some joke to ease the situation, when, a hand touched his face. Isaac was leaning over him, examining his face when Max finally turned over to face him. It was weird as heck, like something his dad would do, but honestly when it came to his dad and Isaac, the weirdness just couldn’t be compared.

“You’re still burning up. Do you have a headache? I think you got a minor heatstroke.”

Max’s brain was supplying him with messy jumbles of words, his friend cradling his face and staring at it like he had caused the discomfort Max went through. Leave it to Isaac to make everything 100% more serious and uncomfortable than it should be. Max batted at the boy’s hands away, turning his head to the side.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm.”

“You look sick.”

“Thanks, I try my best.”

Isaac finally cracked a smile through the whole awkward situation, and he got up on the bed completely to lie beside Max, staring at the ceiling. The bed didn’t have enough room with Max on it already, and now Isaac, but he just sighed and didn’t say anything. Anything to soothe the mother hens nerves, right? But just to his luck, Isaac wasn’t done talking.

“So… after I, dragged you out, the teachers tried to calm the students trying to look at the whole… scene, through the windows. In the end Isabel stepped in when you started crying, and boy, did she do a good job of scaring the-“

“I didn’t cry.”

Isaac sighed in a way that said “you and your ego” and Max couldn’t agree more. But the truth of the situation is that he didn’t.

“Alright I’ll rephrase, when you were painfully holding back tears for the sake of your image that only you care about. Choking on your spit and whining like a kicked puppy.”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. The words sort of hurt because of true they were. Max was so attached to being cynical and unaffected that he refused to cry in front of his class after throwing up of all things. Isaac looked at him in concern again, and the guilt was back. Nobody was like Max that way, huh? He was somehow worse than Johnny in this case. Johnny had a flipped up personality, he had an act that he carried because of his insecure one. Ugh, ok, he was going to be sick again with dumb self-pitying thoughts filling his head. The boy beside him took in the lack of response, and his apparent distress.

“It’s ok to cry, you know. Apart of childhood, a human thing, it happens.”

Isaac placed a cold hand on Max’s forehead, and underneath the incredible calm it brought him, he wondered how the other even kept his hands that cold. He was angry all the time, right? Possessed by some lightning spirit, you’d expect to get a shock from just touching the guy. But he was weird and managed to do weird things and Max found it that, today he really didn’t mind the weird things Isaac did.

“You should just be yourself.”

The second Max closed his eyes; he could see his mom saying something similar. It made it a lot harder to keep things inside. Isaac had dragged him out and seen him in possibly the worst state he could get to, yet here he was, concerned over every little detail. As if some public humiliation broke him, even with his pent-up emotions and determination to not show anyone, it would be worse of him to admit that. It was simply, embarrassing, shameful, really gross, made him want to crawl into a hole and die, made him want to never look Isaac in the eye. But, he guessed all that was his punishment for trying to live with such a ridiculous image. It would happen eventually, something would go wrong and they’d all see through it. See he’s human and makes mistakes and does feel things, which he really doesn’t need.

Isaac’s cold spread from his hand to the rest of him, calming his nerves while his thoughts refused to quiet down underneath. He felt stupid and exposed and sick. It was the weakest and most pitiful state to be in.

“..Just, are you sure you’re ok?”

Max felt the silence was killing him, but somehow Isaac’s words struck him even more. He pulled on the toughest mask he could.

“Peachy.”

He shifted away from Isaac again, and his hand dropped to the bed. They left it that. A dumb school trip that lead to a dumb party that led to Max feeling even dumber.

Isaac stayed on the bed with him, and he just hoped the other wouldn’t notice his damp pillow later on.

* * *

 

“A fever?!”

Maxwell Puckett, now possibly the most talked about person in school, or the most hated. He has so far; been slightly but pleasantly enough surprised when his broke, insane school got enough money for a school trip, has had the most unhealthy farewell party ever, has thrown up in front of a bus filled with kids (and Isaac) and had to bear the whole crowd seeing it and the shame that came after (and Isaac), laid in bed with his friend (codename: Isaac) and talked about emotional stuff and cried in the end while the friend was still there (stealth mode). And in the end, the teachers scooted him to a taxi the next day with no explanation, but Max went anyway because he’d rather go home than suffer in the unbearable heat and sickness around screaming kids. There was the tingling anxiety creeping up on his back on what the others would think now that he’s left too. Possibly the most socially unforgivable thing he’s done, and he’s been a new student for a while now.

Either way, he was home now, with his dad casually explaining he caught a fever in the middle of freaking summer. Or, well, not exactly the middle of summer, but close enough that it was still really hot and impossible to be sprouting an illness more common during the colder seasons. He was grumbling and irritated and way too freaking warm, constantly.

“Look at the irony, the kid who never gets sick catches a heatstroke, a fever, and a stomach bug, all at the same time. That’s quite the package.”

Max wanted to point out how the vomiting wasn’t exactly because of a stomach bug, but just this time, held his tongue. He’d get through his sickness and dad’s care more easily if he didn’t have to deal with a parent’s guilt radiating in every room of the house. He spun around and started walking upstairs, praying to any god that the epidemic tainting his body would be quick and painless.

“Think of the bright side too, this is a rare occurrence and possibly won’t happen too often. Puckett’s don’t get ill often!”

Unless it’s mentally, his brain supplied.

* * *

 

Did you know a fever only gets worse with time and lying around? You might think not, but by now Max could point that he was living proof of the theory. 3 days passed and everything got worse. He could only wear a T-shirt and shorts around the house, his dad insisting that the AC was turned on the coldest setting, but Max still felt so unbearably hot. Everything was bright when he opened his eyes, and he was too uncomfortable to move, so time was spent on the couch, sweating. He had to take back his blame on his dad and the party too, since the day he got home he ended up throwing up in the middle of the night. The experience beat the school trip, but he still felt awful for the return of the constant disgust. Just a few days ago he could use his brain fairly well, and did come to the conclusion that the fever explained a lot. His weird emotions and how freaking hot he felt, even after throwing up and staying in a cold house for a day. He was never going to let anyone beside his family see him sick again though, especially a specific, weird dweeb in his school. That was all done and forgotten, his brain having turned to mush in almost no-time as he was slowly being cooked from the inside.

“Max?”

The owner of the name all but groaned and gracefully fell off the couch when trying to get up. Did he mention his bones could scientifically be considered noodles right now? That was a thing. He crawled forward before carefully getting up and leaning heavily against the railing of the stairs. Going down the stairs was not an option, as he had tested the day before it would only end in pain, a paralyzing migraine and an almost broken nose. He yelled back down for his father in unintelligible words. The sound of a bag being zippered caught his attention.

“Sorry to tell on such a short notice, kiddo, but some old friends called me out to hang out. And you know me with social situations, I couldn’t quite refuse. I’ll be leaving right now.”

Max felt his stomach sink, he hated to admit it but he really didn’t know how he’d manage to survive without his dad in this state, even if it was for a few hours.

“D-do you have to? I mean, I don’t know how I’m gonna make food or-or even get to the freaking bathroom without throwing up on the way- “Oh god what if he threw up again? How was he going to make it through that without his dad? What if he couldn’t get up quick enough and ended up just choking on his vomit, what if he wasn’t even awake while it happened-

“Oh no, it’s ok! Your friend came here to watch over you.”

His thoughts stopped there. A friend? What friend would ever-

He took a quick glance down the stairs as well as he could, and spotted the stupid orange hair in a millisecond. God, he was going to kill him.

Max waved his dad goodbye from upstairs, not even taking a second to actually argue over the dweeb being here. If he wanted to get sick, so be it. Max had exposed himself enough and he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He plopped back down on the couch, where he was going to stay for the rest of the week at least, not on his own terms, but he couldn’t complain too much.

Steps were coming up the stairs and towards him and Max internally cringed. It was time to pull on his witty mask and make this as regretful of a decision for Isaac as possible. When he finally heard the footsteps stop and a shadow loomed over him, he laughed for the first time in a while. It came straight from his belly and made him feel sick but wow, Isaac just did not change. The red-heads voice was fond, but obviously embarrassed.

“Glad you’re feeling better.”

Max somehow managed to forget his ongoing suffering now that Isaac was here. The mood lightened, the room felt colder, it was way better than moping around alone.

“A little sick isn’t going to strike me down. A-and did you seriously leave the first and most likely last school trip to come and babysit me? I’m touched, dweebo.”

His voice quivered the slightest bit. It was straining to talk, through the heat and constant flashes of nausea or pain in his head. But Isaac didn’t take notice, so he guessed he did alright. They ended up watching shows, Isaac at some point suggesting they play video games, and Max felt embarrassed to refuse as his brain would implode with all the information. He continued it with how he could barely remember his name, was it Am? Xm? He didn’t know. And who was the strange man in his house cooking food for him? Nobody knew. Isaac snorted called him silly, and Max tried really hard to ignore the growing buzz at the bottom of his stomach. Instead he took increasing interest in the fact that Isaac had just snorted. It turned to a long debate.

And for some god forbidden reason, he felt better that day. Sure he was so hot he felt he was being cooked alive, and his bones were as stable as feathers, but he didn’t feel incredibly miserable, so that’s something. But alas, he was Max, so of course it wasn’t going to last. And it happened so that just as Isaac was downstairs picking out food, he felt the familiar sickness like in the bus. He sensed it before, but thought it would pass. Now that Isaac was out and the room was suddenly so much warmer, with the sun flaring his skin from almost every angel, he couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. Max hopped onto his feet as carefully but quickly as he could, and realized being careful didn’t even matter anymore because every move made him sicker.

The walk to the bathroom felt like an eternity, every breath felt risky, like he was ready to spill the second his mouth opened up enough. He collapsed on the floor when he finally got it, swallowing down the foul taste already gathering in his mouth. He couldn’t stay up long enough to close the door, and so, though displeased, not surprised when Isaac walked in. His painful panting echoed in the room and he felt the little bits of soup and water he’d digested rising up, up, up-

Isaac was quick to act like always, hoisting Max up by his arms and setting him in front of the toilet. Keeping his head up in a position where he wouldn’t choke or spill some of his vomit on the floor, because he had proved himself to be able to do a lot, but even Max could guess he wouldn’t start cleaning up after him.

There wasn’t much for him to properly vomit, it was more of just him spitting and trying to catch his breath in-between the toilet and the floor. Isaac stopped supporting him after Max had gotten close to spilling on him and _courtly_ told him to let go. He instead grabbed a nearby towel, soaked it in water, and laid it on Max’s head once he was done getting rid of any nutrients in his body. He used another one to wipe whatever disgust was left on his face. Max couldn’t tell temperatures apart at this point, the towel was numbing, the bathroom floor was pinching, his body thrummed and Isaac’s skin buzzed. He hated the thought that Isaac’s dumb, worried face was going to be the last thing he saw while he whisked away in his own bathroom, because if that wasn’t what was happening here, he was going to hate waking up.

* * *

 

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Isaac almost jumped face first from his chair beside Max’s bed. Max snickered and the other grumbled, at least things seemed normal enough between them. He readjusted his position and placed whatever book we has reading on the nightstand. Max didn’t have a lot of books, so once quick glance already told him which one it was. His favorite, a little book called “Psychology of Acrobatics”, lamest name in existence but the content makes up for it. He refused anyone touch the thing without gloves, but found it sort of, nice? That Isaac took some interest in that book specifically. But he wouldn’t know, probably just a random pick, not a planned one, not for Max.

“God, I think your dweebness is rubbing off on me.”

“Pretty sure that’s not an actual word.”

Max rolled his eyes, he guessed he was just going to have wait till’ his former babysitter's mom's brother's youngest niece got her BFA so he would have someone at his side to prove that absolutely everything coming out his mouth was all but illogical or unreal. Speaking of things unrelated to anything.

“Was it good?”

“Hmm?”

“The book you were reading.”

Isaac lightened up a bit, the worry lines he was forming at such a young age smoothing out. He picked the book back up and stared at the cover of it, a big smile on his face.

“Yeah, it actually was! Totally not my type, as the ‘books’ I read are usually filled with action and heroes and pretty love-interests… but still, I really liked this! Under my concern for the lack of books you own, I’m proud there was at least a really good one along the few.”

Scientifically, happiness was one of the most common facial expressions, expressed usually by smiling. Scientifically, Max was definitely going to let his absolute joy show for someone like Isaac, therefore, staring was his best option when trying not to smile. The red-head rambled on a bit about the good qualities of the book, not leaving a lot of room for criticism, but he insisted there wasn’t much to criticize. Max couldn’t agree more which only made it harder to not blow up like a nerdy fan boy on the spot. He didn’t know anyone around here who was even mildly interested in the things he was, if it wasn’t from an aesthetic perspective. Which was all fine, but he at least wished there was someone he could share some of his knowledge with. He could talk about things like bands without a care, but this was too specific, too close and too important, he didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he wanted to talk about it, or seem arrogant. Isaac’s rambling slowly died off and he gave Max a look, sliding the book on the bed.

“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Max snapped out of it.

“What? No, nah, I mean, I agree. I really like the book,” _It’s his favorite._ “and I happen to lo- do acrobatics, so you know, good combination. Good book.” Cross his heart and hope to die, he swore that this fever and lack of social interaction has molted the part of his brain responsible for logical talk like year old bread. Isaac went along with it though, and asked him about acrobatics. Max kept a cool mood and his answers short to not show his rising excitement. It wasn’t anything special, it was just nice, a nice distraction from all the dumb feelings and insecurity. He got to talk about things he knew and loved, and Isaac seemed genuinely interested, which Max tried his best to not turn into some joke and ruin the moment. This was his only chance.

In the end, they talked about their stupid interests and listened to some albums Max had shoved in his shelves. It ranged from heavy rock to something softer, more thoughtful and meaningful. He bit his tongue to not talk of how the ones with the softer guitar chords and lyrics about problems no-one dare talk about around kids were his mom’s favorites. It wasn’t an important fact to anyone but him, so he didn’t bother tearing his skin off in front of Isaac again.

He didn’t even notice any of the pain he felt before, the headache softened, he didn’t feel like throwing up after drinking water. And though sitting beside Isaac, he felt his face growing warm, he was a bit- no, really, really ashamed to admit, it wasn’t because of the fever.

Another thing he prayed Isaac wouldn’t notice.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, leaving kudos or a comment would mean a lot, thank you!


End file.
